Eerie mists swirled in the room, lit with purple and blue fires. Marcus sagged against her, but breathing steadily. She checked his aura and to her relief found no more gray, not even a fleck.
Panting, Carialle slumped against the headboard, no strength left in her body.
She smelled a faint sweet burning smell, accented with a hint of vanilla or perhaps cherries, and saw a man’s shape at the door, not a real man but the outline of one.
“Well done,” he said, before walking away. The eerie colored mists drifted out of the room after him, as if drawn by his energy.
“Gramps,” Marcus murmured, stretching slightly and turning on his side with a yawn.
Or Thuun. Carialle laid her hand on his forehead, relieved to find his skin a normal temperature. Tears of sheer exhaustion rolled down her face. The battle was over. She and Marcus had won. Thuun himself and who knew what other resources had come to their aid in that last desperate hour, but her warrior would live.
Morning sun warm on his face woke him and Marcus rolled onto his back, opening his eyes and studying the roughhewn planks of the cabin’s ceiling. Cautiously at first and then with more energy, he did his isometric muscles, testing each major group of sinew and fiber and finding himself strong, without aches or pains. His mind was clear and sharp, no hint of the drug’s stupor. And no hint of the tainted residue the Mawreg prison had left on his soul. He possessed jumbled memories of the last twenty four hours—a montage of Mawreg and other aliens, him driving a groundcar, pain, danger, wild colors mixing in the air like spilled antigrav paint—but mostly what he remembered with no difficulty was Carialle. Her touch, her songs, her fierce determination—all those threads wove through his memory and he understood he owed her his life twice over now.
Sitting up, he looked at the rumpled bed and wondered where she was. He threw off the heavy quilt and got up. He heard Carialle singing outside and his heart beat faster with impatience and longing to see her. Walking barefoot toward the main cabin, he stubbed a toe on a small obstacle and bent to retrieve his grandfather’s pipe. Unsure what the memento was doing in the bedroom doorway, on the floor, he made a side trip to replace it on the table, inhaling the scented and spicy aroma of Gramps’ special tobacco mix. Who’d have imagined the scent would linger all these years?
The front door was open and he shook his head ruefully at Carialle’s complete lack of situational awareness. Lucky she has me. There would be no more moments where she had to take on the burden of defending them. Defense as well as offense if needed was his job and as he was returned to full strength, he intended to fulfill his obligation.
As he stepped barefoot onto the porch, he halted in sheer amazement, speculating with unaccustomed whimsy whether he’d gone through a portal to another world. A thick carpet of riotous multicolored flowers bloomed overnight between the cabin and the lake, with large iridescent flying insects of a type he’d never seen before gathering nectar. Carialle was standing at the edge of the water, one hand palm down on the bark of a huge tree beside her, and she was singing the most beautiful song he’d ever heard. The melody was unearthly and sublime and her voice did full justice to the ripples and trills of the complicated score. Above her a flock of virtually every kind of bird on the planet swirled, singing along with their own music, augmenting the joy of hers. As he waded through the knee high flowers, he caught glimpses of various shy woodland creatures at the edges of the meadow, watching Carialle sing. Even his presence didn’t scare them off, for which he was glad.
I feel like I wandered into a fantasy trideo.
Her voice was the golden thread tying the incredible experience together and his heart beat faster as he walked closer. She was facing the lake but as if sensing his approach, she did a graceful pivot for the last few notes and sang them directly to him.
There was a moment of silence after she finished and then the birds arrowed over the lake in a broad swath of colors, breaking apart into flocks of their individual species and flying in different directions.
“Well?” she said, head tilted.
“I should be applauding but then again, the song was so amazing, mere applause would be an insult.” He reached her side and without pausing to think it through, gathered her close in his arms and kissed her.
For a moment she stood in his embrace as if surprised and then her lips parted, inviting him to deepen the caress. She put one hand on the back of his head to hold him in position and leaned against him, her softness cushioning the rapidly growing hardness of his body.
Her mouth was hot, sensual, and tasted of her sweet tea. Exploring her with his tongue, he felt all the nerve endings in his body going on the alert, tingling with desire. Marcus picked her up effortlessly and she twined her legs around his waist.
He ended the kiss, breathing hard. Carialle laid her head on his chest and the soft green tendrils of her hair tickled his chin.
“I—I’m sorry,” he said, setting her on her own feet and steadying her on the broken ground for a moment. “You—the song—”
She shook her head, taking his hand and leading him along the lake shore to a large flat rock, dappled with bright green moss. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. Emotion between us runs high, especially after last night’s battle.” Carialle sat, patting the gray surface beside her in invitation.
Marcus put himself right next to her, not wanting to lose the physical contact. Knowing she was holding him through the night had been a lifeline. Here, in the daylight, health restored, his emotions were running hot along more sensual lines. Everything about her fed his desire.
“No need to ask if you feel better today.” Laughing, she gave him a saucy glance, allowing her gaze to linger for a moment on the bulge in his sweat pants before she picked up a few pebbles, and tried skipping one across the surface of the lake.
“Like a new man. Or like the old me, before my last combat mission and certainly before Trang go her claws into me.” He took her hand and turned so he could see her face. “I don’t know how to thank you for sticking with me last night. For saving my life again. I can’t truly recall all the details but I know I nearly died. Except for you, I wouldn’t be sitting here. I don’t know how a man repays such a debt.” He looked closely at her. “Are you all right? You didn’t get any sleep.”
“I’m fine, full of energy.” She waved her hand at the trees surrounding them. “This forest has deep roots and gave generously of power this morning. I’m restored to myself as well. It’s been a long time since I was in a place where I could drink deep of what I need, could tap the energy of a living planet. Devir Six, where we were based, is mostly desert, and on my other Combine assignments offworld I had no opportunity to do more than sip.”
“You consume energy? But I’ve seen you eat food.” He was confused but intrigued.
“I eat to maintain my physical body, like you. Although I probably eat a lot less than you do.” She gave him a playful elbow jab in the ribs. “But for my power, I need to draw upon other sources. Calling upon nature for energy is the gift of Thuun to his priestesses. For their part, the priestesses nurture living things, perform healing—” She broke off and frowned. “The polar opposite of what the Combine forced me to do.”
“I remember you telling me you weren’t a priestess. But you have the powers of one?” He sensed from her demeanor and expression this was an important subject for her.
“You gave me a gift last night, Marcus Valerian,” she said, formality ringing in her tone, as if she was a queen addressing a knight. “One I had no slightest expectation or hope of ever receiving.”
“I don’t remember. I remember doing a lot of puking, hallucinating—” He was embarrassed at how much he’d put her through but grateful beyond words she’d hung in there with him.
“On our planet, the gifts of Thuun come to men and women in certain family lines,” she said. “Only they can become priests and priestesses.”
“But you have the powers—I’ve sure seen the evidence myself
. How are you not a priestess?”
“My father was from one of the noble houses. My mother was a servant and of course after she got pregnant, she was cast out. I was raised in an area like River Wind.”
“A slum,” he said.
She nodded. “But since I was born with the power, my mother told me I’d be a priestess, filled my head with talk of how carefree my life would be. And hers, by extension, as the mother of a priestess.”
“A lot of pressure to lay on a little kid,” he said.
“She was trying to give us both hope. At the age of eight, which is when training begins, she took me in my best clothes to the temple one morning, to enter the school. I was turned away. The priest was contemptuous. He said even if I did have a measure of the gift, I’d be an embarrassment to the family my father was from. Too many questions would be asked. We fled home in disgrace and never spoke of the temple again. My mother died within a year. I believe the crushing of her dream of a better life for us was too much for her heart to bear.”
“Did your father help you?”
“No. I never spoke to him in my entire life, although I knew who he was and I saw him fighting the enemy, defending the temple on the day we were kidnapped by the Shemdylann. He died a valiant death.”
Marcus put an arm over her shoulders and hugged her. “I’m sorry. So how did you survive?”
“After my mother died, I marched to the temple and told the priest since Thuun gave me the power, I had to be allowed to serve.”
“You were what, nine?”
“Yes, and desperate. Without my mother to protect me, the slum was a dangerous place. Certain men pay well for young girls.”
“Those men don’t deserve to live.” Anger at what she’d endured rose hot in him. He wished he could have been there to stand for her.
“Thuun maintains a special level of hell for them, or so the accounts say. Which doesn’t help their victims much in life, and I was determined not to become prey for such a one.” Carialle shrugged. “The priest—a different man than the one who’d rejected my application away the year before—chose to be amused at my impertinence and said of course I could serve the temple, as a maid.”
“You were a child.” His protest was immediate and again he wished he’d been there to help, although he’d have been only a few years older than she was at the time. He marveled at what a caring person she was, despite the rigors of her childhood.
“I didn’t care what working conditions he set. A job—even cleaning the least appealing of the temple’s many chambers—was an honest way to live. I got myself a safe home, enough food, decent clothes. I was inside the gates, you know?” Eyebrows raised, Carialle shot him a smile showing her satisfaction at the betterment of her situation she’d achieved so young. “I cleaned and I ignored the taunts and bullying from the high born girls who could be priestesses. I had nothing to do with the boys destined to be priests—avoiding them was the safest course. The temple had a huge library and I’d sneak out of my bed in the servants’ dormitory at night and disappear into the stacks. My mother’d taught me to read so I was able to glean quite a bit from the volumes in the library. Several of the elderly celebrants were also willing to tutor me on the sly if I brought them extra food or cleaned their rooms with attention to detail. So I have gaps in my knowledge and learning, but I can wield my power.”
She watched the waves on the lake for a few moments and he was reluctant to break her mood with questions. “It’s ironic, but after I was kidnapped, the Combine ranked me as one of their best assets among the Tulavarra. Not that I was any more compliant than the others, but because of my power. There were two sisters, priestesses from the southern continent, who were kind to me, taught me what they could while we were in captivity together. Not at all like the haughty girls where I grew up. I could have been a priestess had I been born where those two lived, my birth no barrier. But we have to take the portion we’re given.” Carialle straightened and turned to him. “Do you know what is required of each applicant before becoming fully vested as a priestess or a priest?”
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”
“Man or woman, each must overcome a challenge. It’s a ceremony known as Thuun’s rukauntir—his required proof of worthiness. Usually it’s an arranged challenge—a wilderness journey alone to retrieve a hidden treasure for example, but the test can also be a real life experience, like serving in the midst of an epidemic, protecting one’s self and healing a certain number of people. I wouldn’t have been given a chance at rukauntir because of my birth.” Carialle patted his arm. “Until you. Our struggle last night was my rukauntir. I heard the voice of Thuun at the darkest moment and I took heed, reached deep inside me and found what I needed, with your help.”
He gathered her close, his intention primarily to offer comfort but he admitted to himself he craved skin to skin contact with her again. She felt so right in his arms. “And we survived.”
Carialle wiped away a few tears with the hem of her shirt. “The warrior and the priestess,” she said.
“A good team.” Being part of the team was the foundation of the Special Forces. He’d expected to miss that the most once he was involuntarily retired but Carialle had all the guts and smarts a man could ask for in a partner. Overwhelmed with unaccustomed emotions, he tilted her chin and kissed her softly on the lips again.
She allowed her tongue to trace the seam of his lips and when he parted to give her what she sought, she shifted herself onto his lap. His arousal had to be blatantly obvious to her at this point, pressing into her bottom. Carialle was beautiful, warm and delicious and he wanted to carry her inside the cabin and spend hours making leisurely love to her. He put one hand on her breast, cupping the soft weight through the fabric of her shirt, and her sigh of pleasure as he rubbed the pebbling nipple went straight to his cock. “I want you,” he said, breaking off the kiss and nuzzling the delectable spot where her neck met her shoulders. He wished he had more elegant words but his desire for her was overwhelming his verbal skills. “We could go up to the cabin.” Kissing his way up the slender column of her neck, he nibbled her ear lobe. “Sound like a good idea to you, my lovely angel?”
“I have a better one.” She slipped from his lap and stood in front of him out of arm’s reach. Slowly she removed her shirt, revealing lacy blush-colored underwear accenting the allure of her ample breasts, lifted and ready for his attention. Carialle’s cheeks took on a pink tint under the pale jade of her skin as she watched him, took in his hungry attention to her figure. “I treated myself to something pretty with my first week’s pay. I wasn’t exactly expecting to display my body to anyone—I simply wanted to please myself.” Her tone betrayed a flicker of nerves.
“The view pleases me, no argument there. Gorgeous.” He reached for her but she danced out of his way with a graceful sidestep.
Holding up a finger in a mock chiding gesture belied by the smile on her lips, she said, “Not yet.” Now she shimmied out of her utility pants and revealed another bit of lacy lingerie perfectly designed to tempt him while not concealing anything. Swaying her hips, she returned to his arms and yanked at the hem of his shirt. “Now you.”
“You’ve seen me—I’m nothing special. Even my scars and tatts are gone, thanks to the rejuve the military doctors ran me through.” He yanked off the T shirt and allowed her to lower his sweat pants, freeing him. Cool as the morning air was, it did nothing to decrease his ardor or the size of his painfully throbbing erection.
She eased the pants off his ankles and tossed them aside. Remaining on her knees before him, she ran her hands up his thighs, leisurely caressing the muscles, and then cupped his balls for a moment before stroking his erection with a firm grip. Her sensuous touch had him fighting not to come in response to her skillful ministrations. “I don’t count the times I glimpsed your body, my warrior, for those were without your permission and under duress. This is the view I wanted—you as a free man, desiring me.”
He ran his hands through her hair, enjoying the tactile feel of the unusual curls, and traced the delicate shell like forms of her ears with his fingertips. “Desire isn’t a problem—my self-control is. I’m right on the edge here. You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever seen and the only thing I want right now is you, splayed underneath me, taking all I have to give.”
Her hands on him were driving him crazy and he wasn’t going to last long, despite his fervent intentions. Groaning, he pulled her from her knees and onto his lap, his cock jutting between them, hot and hard, weeping with desire. She adjusted herself, rising to allow the tip of his arousal to touch her soft inner folds. Using one hand, she directed him into the soft, slick channel, while she held his body close to hers with the other hand looped behind his neck. Her lush breasts pressed against his chest. Marcus held her tight as she lowered herself, taking him slowly, inch by inch, allowing herself to grow accustomed to his girth.
“I knew you were built like a warrior all over but the reality is overwhelming,” she whispered, pausing.
Two Against the Stars Page 9
